


The Atlas Wars

by Stevenska



Category: N/A - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stevenska/pseuds/Stevenska
Summary: Just a story.





	1. Part I - Operation Kilo Juliet : Finch

"I like creating things," Finch sighed. Maybe to himself, maybe to the bloodied battlefield around him. He bent over and picked up a severed head, looking deep into its glazed over eyes. "And it doesn't help that the staff mock me about it. I mean, can't they just let me write my poems in peace?" He looked around the field again, at the battle still raging around him. He sighed once more before digging his dagger out of its holster, and he began scalping the severed head, whistling as he did so.

"Which Finch am I today? The lonely creator locked out of social activities because I'm not-" He turned suddenly, without warning, to face the female behind him. He smiled quickly, before lunging and plunging his knife deep into her chest. The woman let out a gasp. He dug it around slightly, wincing as blood spurted onto his suit. "Dammit. I just got this dry cleaned," He muttered under his breath, before staring into the eyes of the still remarkably alive female. He shook his head once more, before removing the knife from the female.

"Why do you people always refuse to die after a single stab," He muttered, tossing the knife high into the air. To Finch, time slowed down. The knife span in the air, and he reached into his jacket, whipping out a revolver, shining blue. This all happened so quickly that the female barely had time to look down in shock. High above, the late afternoon sun shone off of the combat knife, casting a sliver of light onto the female's head. Finch thumbed back the hammer on his revolver with a smile, before squeezing the trigger. The female's head snapped backwards, and she slumped down onto the grass, her body joining the growing pile of bodies on the ground, painting the grass red. The knife landed with a thud in the woman's spine, digging itself deep inside, to the hilt. Finch sighed and knelt down, stroking the cheek of the newly deceased woman.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me," He calmly continued as if he hadn't just murdered the woman. "Just because I like to be slightly creative with the way I kill someone doesn't mean that I should be excluded from stuff." He stood up, tugging the knife out of the woman's back and wiping it across the back of her tactical gear to clear the worst of the blood.

"I mean, I'm the head of the R&D, for Christ sakes." He sighs out, looking around at the skirmish unfolding around him. From what he could see, they were winning, unsurprisingly. The pop of distant assault rifles floated across the hills. They were almost finished.

"It's about time, too." Finch sighed, picking up a severed arm, most likely flung off of the poor bastard who had gotten himself too close to the firing line of a grenadier. He twisted the arm around this way and that, examining it.

"I think this'll do nicely." He smiled, pocketing the arm into his satchel. He grabbed a pair of binoculars out of the bag and looked over at a builder just on the horizon. Even though the sun was setting and the building was obscured by many trees, he could still see the smoke billowing out.

"Oh goody, they've got the objective." He slipped the binoculars back into his pack and activated the sub-dermal radio all employees were required to have installed.

"This is Foxtrot Lima reporting in, requesting a private comms channel with Squad leader Victor Echo, please comply." He began walking away from the smoldering building, anticipating the coming shockwave.

In his ear, the crackling of a radio bursted in.

"This is Squad leader Victor Echo, what do you want Finch?" Finch smiled, taking shelter in a ditch. Although he was already at least two clicks away from the building, he knew what was about to go down.

"Oh, I was just gonna ask you how your half of the mission is going." He lay down on the grass, surrounded on two sides by a tall embankment. He hoped that it would keep him safe from the worst of the shrapnel.

Through the comms, he could hear Vicky sigh, even above the screams and mini explosions of the company brand assault rifles.

"You know damn well enough how it's going. We all know how tight of an eye you keep on us, sir." She muttered through audibly clenched teeth.

Finch smiled again, and responded in his sickly sweet voice.

"Lieutenant. Vicky. You know better than to talk to me like that. Remember what happened to the previous holder of your position when they spoke to me like that?" Vicky's shiver could basically be felt through the comms line. After ten seconds of silence, Finch smiled and continued.

"Marvelous. Glad to know that we agree. However, you still haven't answered my question. How. Is. The. Mission going." He repeated. Another sigh emanated from the radio.

"The skirmish is going better than anticipated sir. We have extracted the package in record time, and have eliminated all possible threats. We-"

"Fatality report, Coleman. How many of our employees died." He sighed out.

"Todd from I.T, Shanae from R&D, Bart from Experimental technologies. Three fatalities." Came her voice down the comms.

"Oh goodie. That wasn't as bad as-" Suddenly, a loud crackling interrupted his conversation. He, impulsively, held his hand up to his ear in a futile attempt to block out the nose.

"Foxtrot, what in God's sake are you doing?" Came a loud, booming voice into Finch's ear.

"Commanding officer Charlie Delta, what are you doing here?" Finch snapped, sitting up straight.

"We just interrupted your comms system, Finch. Formalities are over. You know what this means. Victor Echo has gone AWOL."

"Bull shit," Finch snapped, slightly too loudly. "I was just talking with her, before you so rudely interrupted." In the distance, Finch could hear the blades of an evac chopper. He turned around and saw the black speck on the horizon. The evac chopper. He thought to himself, watching as it grew in size steadily.

"That wasn't Victor Echo, you were talking to. That was the objective. You do remember what the objective was, right? Turns out Vicky has been planing this little coup for months. We have target locked on her. So, sir, shall we execute?" Charlie asked. Finch whipped out his binoculars again, looking at the building. No movement.

How hadn't I noticed? He asked himself as he swept the area for Charlie's outpost. His gaze landed on a rocky outcropping on a small... mountain five clicks from the building. There, in a makeshift sniper den. Charlie. Finch stood up and tucked away his binoculars.

"With extreme prejudice." The gunshot echoed out throughout the valley as soon as he had confirmed. Behind him, he could feel the wind from the chopper biting the back of his neck. He threw one more cursory glance around the battlefield. By now, it was like looking at a Jackson Pollock painting created with solely red paint.

"Confirmed kill, Finch." Came Charlie's voice down through the line. Finch scowled at the bloodstain on his suit, trying to get the worst of it out with a handkerchief.

"Good, Charlie. So, who's getting the objective now?"

"The new girl, Lola." Finch froze.

"The intern? I thought we weren't allowed to bring Interns into the battlefield, Charlie."

"In most cases, yes boss. However, this girl is-" The rest of Charlie's sentence was replaced by the sound of an explosion. Finch whipped out his binoculars and directed his gaze to the building. Or, rather, the remains of the building. What was there now was a smoking crater.

"Charlie?" Finch asked slowly. "Did Lola do that?"

"Yes," Came Charlie's smug voice down the comms channel. God, finch Hated it when Charlie was smug. "Yes she did."


	2. Part II

"Do you have a plan, Jace?" Tatiana asked worriedly as she popped her head back out from behind cover, firing a shot or two.

"A plan? Yes, yes I do." Jace called out, trying very, very hard not to sound scared. Tat sighed, and looked over at Jace, who was currently scrunched up behind a shipping container, and shivering, by the looks of it.

"Is it a good one?"

Jace paused. "I've got a plan."

"GODDAMMIT JACE!" Tat called back as she fired a few more shots, and her pistol clicked. Empty. She looked over at the other side of the warehouse. The cops were closing in.

"Jace, now would be a really good time for one of those Just-In-The-Nick-Of-Time plans you always come up with." Came Oscar's agitated voice from behind them. Jace through a look over at Oscar, and smirked, winked, and went back to shivering. Oscar shook his head in disbelief and fired a few more shots at the police. Click. Empty. From behind, the cops stopped firing and began advancing on their position. The sound of heavy boots filled the warehouse. Jace continued shivering as they surrounded the shipping container he was cowering behind.

"Stand up." Barks the closest Cop. Probably the lieutenant thought Jace as he heightened his gaze to the cop in front of him and saw the ribbons on his shoulders.

"Stand up." He repeated, louder this time. The cop sighed and brought up his gun, preparing to bring it down on Jace's skull. As he started to swing it down, Jace sprung up into a high jumping kick, and it caught on the cop's helmet with a crack, leaving him with a crack running across his visor like a spiderweb as he stumbled back and ultimately falling down, bringing two or three others with him.

The rest of the cops stood there in amazement as Jace landed quietly on the floor. He threw a smile at them as he fiddled with a device on his wrist and he dissipated, the air around him crackling. The cops looked around confused, and they realised two things within a number of seconds: Firstly, the two other people had disappeared along with Jace, and, secondly, there was now a ticking sound filling the warehouse. Bombs. Unfortunately for the cops, they only had a few seconds of realisation before the warehouse was filled with a giants mass of flame.

***

A loud ringing filled Jace's ears as he lay, groaning, against the asphalt. All around him, the air was still filled with the dry heat that came from many, many pounds of explosives and a roaring fire. Speaking of, behind Jace and co. was the smouldering remains of the warehouse. Whoops. Jace slowly pried open his eyes, and the world around him was a blur. He had gotten himself into a sitting position before his past meals were suddenly on the pavement in front of him, leaving only with a stinging in his throat. He looked around at the deserted parking lot around him. Tat and Oscar were further away, practically on top of the cement wall. Jace's head felt like it was filled to the brim with cotton balls and molasses. Warping was a risky business, even now. Good only for short length warps, and they still carried the threat of accidentally turning you inside out. It was a miracle that they all had had their warpers synced to activate when one of them activated. Jace stood up, shakily, and brushed the worst of the debris from his jacket. He stumbled his way across the lot, avoiding the worst of the cracks and large weeds, to his companions. He slumped against the wall and prodded them in the arms. The cotton ball-molasses feeling was subsiding. Slowly, but still. Besides him, Tat was the first to stir.

"Morning sleepyhead." Jace moaned.

"Fuck you Jace." Tat replied before losing her lunch as well.

"At least we got what we came for." Tat wiped her mouth.

"Heh, I guess so." Jace reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a hard-drive. Oscar stirred as well.

"And the princess rises from her sleep." Tat jested at Oscar as he stands up. He had always had an iron gut, especially when it concerned warping. Jace and tat held their hands up to Oscar and he pulled them up. For his wiry frame, he was extraordinarily strong. Tat stumbled slightly but straightened herself out relatively quickly.

The three, after standing around for a minute and regaining their orientation, walked out of the lot. They strode eastward for a number of blocks until they reached a parking garage. Inside, was their car. A magnificent car that they had all decided as a group to buy. Well, Jace had decided to buy, and assumed that the others would be happy with their mode of transportation. They were not.

"I still hate this car." Muttered Tat as she hopped into shotgun.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad." Jace whinged as he slid into the driver's seat.

"It looks like a Jackson Pollock painting if he was fed nothing except red bull and crack for two days straight, given every shade of yellow paint imaginable and told to go ape shit on a car." Oliver slid into the backseat.

The car in question was a Nissan Cube. Need I say more? Jace had bought it on impulse because he thought it would do well on long stake-outs. Turns out that the AC didn't work, nor did three of the windows.


End file.
